Then your due date comes ... and goes. So you are left sitting around, with your varicose veins, your fat feet stuffed into slippers because your shoes don't fit, feeling like the size of a house, scratching at that yeast infection you've had for the last 4 months, answering the phone to friends and relatives congratulating you on the baby you haven't had yet, between trips to the bathroom, while your friends who had elective caesarians or inductions at a pre-arranged time look down on you.
This is, after all, why they call it an estimated due date.